


goodbye means nothing at all

by hotcuppa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flashbacks, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Smut, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 20:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17270669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotcuppa/pseuds/hotcuppa
Summary: in which louis is married, harry is in love with him and, surprisingly, it’s a lot more complicated than that.





	goodbye means nothing at all

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by stay by sugarland  
> titled after she will be loved by maroon 5  
> italics between asterisks are flashbacks

Harry stares at the fan on the ceiling as it spins, barely doing anything to cool the sweat on his skin and the sting of tears in his eyes. Louis, whose across the room and slowly getting dressed, keeps giving him pitiful glances, which really just makes the whole thing worse.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Harry asks, knotting his hand in the sheets and pulling them up higher, covering more of himself even though Louis has seen it all before. Many times.

“I hate hurting you,” Louis whispers, and Harry closes his eyes. Breathe in. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Breathe out. “It doesn’t,” he murmurs, willing himself not to cry so he can look Louis in the eye and challenge him properly. “It doesn’t have to be like this. You can leave her just as easily as you leave me every damn time.”

The bed dips under Louis’s weight, and Harry reminds himself to breathe again. In, out, in, out. If he lets his breathing become labored, Louis will know he’s about to cry. And it’s not like he doesn’t want Louis to know how badly this hurts, because he _does,_ in fact he wants Louis to know and feel the sting of guilt all the time, like an itch that he can’t scratch. But crying exposes a certain weakness and vulnerability that Louis just doesn’t deserve to see from Harry right now.

Also, it helps Harry feel less pathetic if he doesn’t cry. He knew what he was getting into from the first moment he let Louis come over, and he knew when they slept together, and he knew the first time Louis told him he loved him. He wishes this was the first time he’s questioned Louis’s sincerity in that statement, but it isn’t. Not even close.

“Baby,” Louis whispers, and Harry winces. “You know it’s not that simple. If it was that simple, I would never leave this bed, ever.” He smooths Harry’s hair back and presses a kiss to his hairline, and Harry’s next breath in is much shakier than he’d like to admit.

“It’s just simpler to pick her over me, innit?”

“I’m not—Haz, I’m not picking her.”

“But you are,” Harry snaps, sitting up and shoving Louis’s hand away. He starts searching for his boxers to put on—he doesn’t need to be so exposed, emotionally or physically. “You keep saying you love me and that you would choose me over her any day, and then you go home to her every fucking time. Don’t you see? You’re picking her.”

Louis sets his jaw, and Harry turns his back to him.

***

_“What about him?” Niall asks, nudging Harry’s elbow and directing his attention to a booth across the bar, where a man with olive skin is sitting with a few friends. “He’s cute.”_

_Harry snorts, “And straight. I’m trying to pull, Niall, not get a drink thrown in my face.”_

_“How can you tell he’s straight?”_

_“He’s drinking cheap beer and cringes every time he sips it. He hates beer, obviously, yet he’s drinking it to fit in. Straight.”_

_Niall sighs, turning back to his own beer and downing a gulp. Harry often wonders why Niall insists on being his wingman so often when it always goes the same—Harry rejecting or finding fault with every guy that Niall picks for him._

_Harry points to the end of the bar. “I’ve got my eye on him. He’s been alone since he got here,” he murmurs, and Niall follows his finger._

_The man sitting at the end of the bar looks really out of place. He’s dressed in a full suit, but his tie is loosened and tossed over his shoulder, and his hair looks as if it’s been blow-dried but not further styled. But he’s adorable, with a crinkly smile and adorable facial expressions. Everything he’s thinking practically flits across his face._

_Niall nods, considering. “Yeah, he’s fit. But why the fuck is he in a suit in a bar? That screams straight to me.”_

_“The suit is fitted perfectly, though,” Harry counters, and shrugs. “Maybe he’s just coming for a drink after work. Not every guy who wears a suit is Barney Stinson.”_

_“Who?”_

_“From How I Met Your Mother.” When Niall just gives him a blank look, Harry waves it off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go over there.”_

_Niall pouts, “Bro, I’m supposed to_ help _you.”_

_“You did, you helped me eliminate boys until I got to him. Thanks, bro.” He high fives Niall and then, without waiting to see if Niall fed into the bullshit, he heads over to the man’s side of the bar._

_When Harry approaches, the man startles, like he hadn’t thought anyone was going to come up to him. Harry just smiles in what he hopes is a friendly and comforting way, gesturing towards an empty stool by way of asking the man if he can sit. The man nods, and Harry sits quickly, smiling even wider._

_“Hi,” Harry grins, crossing his legs and leaning closer to him. “Couldn’t help but notice you were sitting over here alone, thought you might want some company. My name’s Harry.”_

_“Louis,” the man nods, holding out his hand. Harry nearly laughs—who the hell shakes hands in a bar of all places—but holds back, and just shakes his hand. “Um, nice to meet you.”_

_“Pleasure’s all mine. So, pardon my asking, but why are you sitting here all alone?”_

_Louis shrugs, “I came here alone. Just needed a drink before I headed home. It’s been quite a day, hence the suit.” He smiles, almost bashful, and Harry is hopelessly endeared. “What about you? Were you alone, or did you leave your friends to come speak to me?”_

_“I left my friend, but he’ll be fine. He wants to pull,” Harry explains, and leans impossibly closer, hoping he’s making his intentions clear. When Louis doesn’t react, Harry takes it as another green light._

_“Did you want to pull?”_

_“Whatever happens, happens,” Harry murmurs, trying for coy but probably failing miserably. He moves his hand to rest on Louis’s knee, and while Louis jumps a bit at the contact, he doesn’t pull away, so Harry leaves it._

_Louis clears his throat, pulling at his tie to loosen it more. Harry smirks. “So, uh, why are you wasting your time with me, then? Surely you can pull a girl way prettier than me,” he jokes, but it falls flat, and Harry just frowns. “That was a joke. Uh, sorry.”_

_“What did you think I came over here for?” Harry asks, sliding his hand up further on Louis’s thigh. Louis gapes a bit. “I wanted to talk to you. And, you know. Whatever happens, happens.”_

_Louis jerks back all of a sudden, as if Harry’d burned him. “I-I can’t. I… I can’t, I’m not…”_

_“I’m sorry,” Harry says quickly, holding his hands up innocently. “You’re straight. It’s fine. I’m sorry.”_

_“No, I…” Louis’s hand falls to his jacket pocket, smooths over it, and then he looks back up at Harry again. “I’m not… Could we meet in the bathroom, maybe?”_

_Closeted, Harry decides._

_Harry smiles a bit. “Yeah, sure.” He winks at Louis once, and then backs off, walking back over to Niall._

***

Louis paces around the room, still not fully dressed even though Harry is wearing joggers and a shirt by now. Harry leans against the headboard and pulls his knees to his chest, just watching Louis pace. He doesn’t have to leave quite yet, and Harry thinks this is worse than the actual moment that Louis walks out the door—the waiting. Waiting for her to call, and knowing Louis won’t leave until she does. But they’re both holding their breath, just waiting for it.

Harry picks at a loose string on his joggers, feeling hopelessly horrible. Here he is, loving a man who isn’t and will never be his, and he fell in love with him _knowing_ that Louis is married. He knew, and he’s known, and he slept with him anyway. God, he probably hates himself more than Eleanor could ever hate him, if she ever found out.

He never would’ve kissed Louis in that fucking bathroom if he’d known before. He didn’t know until after Louis had come down his throat in the bar bathroom, because only then had Louis flashed him the gold band hidden in his jacket pocket. Harry had gotten angry, but Louis had cried, and god, Harry’s been a sucker since the first time he saw Louis.

“I don’t understand why you’re still with her if you don’t love her. It’s not fair to her,” Harry mumbles, because Louis has confided that to him before. Louis doesn’t love Eleanor.

He loves Eleanor in every way except romantic, of course. And Harry gets that. But Louis… Louis doesn’t like girls. Apparently he tried to force himself to like girls for years, which is why he married Eleanor in the first place. He convinced himself that the love he felt was romantic, and he dated her and married her, and never let himself think about boys.

Until Harry. He let himself think about Harry, and here they are in the bind they’re in now.

Louis turns on Harry, eyes blazing. “Shut the hell up about El,” he snaps, and Harry clutches his knees tighter to his chest. “You don’t know her, okay? You don’t know anything about my relationship with her, so don’t pretend you do. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair to my wife and what’s not.”

“Fine,” Harry snaps back, “then it’s not fair to _me._ It’s not fair to me that you tell me all of these things and then go right back to her. And I sure as hell get to tell you what’s fair in your relationship with me.”

Louis’s eyes narrow. “No, you don’t,” he says, his voice all ice. “This,” he gestures between himself and Harry with two fingers, “isn’t a relationship, so fair doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It’s not a relationship? Wow, I must’ve missed that when you were telling me that you’re fucking in love with me.” Tears well in Harry’s eyes, and he breathes in and out, in and out. If he cries, Louis will be done for, and Harry doesn’t want that. He wants Louis to hurt, but not like that.

“Don’t fucking—”

“Don’t what?” Harry asks, knowing how hysterical he sounds but not caring. He raises up on his knees on the bed, gesticulating so wildly that he’s worried (in the back of his mind) that he might accidentally knock a lamp over. “Don’t throw that in your face? That’s fucking bullshit, Louis. I can say this shit, okay? I have the right, because every single time you go home, I have to sit here alone and fester in it. I have to think about it all the fucking time, while you’re home with her, I’m here wondering if it was all a lie because you picked her.”

Louis scrubs his hand over his face, and Harry knows he’s fighting tears too. “None of that is a lie, Harry. I have never _once_ lied about how I feel about you.”

“So you just lie to her, then?” Louis’s eyes blaze again, and Harry is so fucking tired. “Why aren’t I enough for you, Lou? You say you don’t love her, and you say that you’ll leave her, so why don’t you? Why won’t you just stay with me?”

“You’re more than enough for me, Haz,” Louis whispers, his voice low and deadly and not at all comforting.

They’ve never fought like this before. It’s always unspoken, every time Louis leaves. But they’ve never hashed it out like this. Harry’s asked him to stay, and Louis has explained why he couldn’t (can’t), but they’ve never yelled. Harry’s never fought him like this before.

It’s a long time coming, though. Harry’s spent so many nights wondering why he’s not good enough, why Louis doesn’t love him enough. Wondering why his love isn’t enough to convince Louis that this is what real love is like, to show him the life that he could have if he’d just accept that he doesn’t love Eleanor like he loves Harry. It’s no one’s fault, Harry wishes Louis would accept that. It’s not Louis’s fault that he can’t love Eleanor the same, and it’s not Eleanor’s fault. It’s just how Louis was born. And he’s realized that for sure now, so why isn’t Harry enough?

“And that’s what I’m so fucking scared of,” Louis finishes, and Harry has to bite his cheek.

***

_It’s 3am when Harry’s phone rings, pulling Harry out of sleep. He fumbles for it angrily, expecting it to be Niall or Liam with some dumb bullshit like it usually is._

_But when he sees the caller ID, it says Louis’s name._

_“Hello?” Harry answers, voice gruff and thick with sleep._

_“Hi,” Louis says, but it’s a whisper, and Harry has to strain to hear him. “Um, are you busy?”_

_“Just sleeping, mate.”_

_“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”_

_Harry sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He reads the time on the clock across the room and groans internally. “It’s fine. What did you need?”_

_There’s a long silence, and for a moment Harry genuinely thinks that Louis fell asleep on him, which would be really fucking rich. But then he hears the shaky breathing, and Harry becomes alert almost instantly, the last bit of sleep leaving him just like that._

_Louis’s voice comes across, shaky and still almost too quiet, “Can I come over?”_

_And Harry knows a booty call when he hears one, and he also knows that Louis has a wedding band on his finger, so he has to think about it. But it’s 3am, and it’s very possible that Louis’s crying, and very possible that he just needs comfort while questioning his sexuality. In the end, Harry says yes._

_Louis is over within the half hour, standing on Harry’s doorstep with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jean jacket. Harry invites him in, ready to talk things out of that’s what he needs, and Louis leaves his shoes at the door._

_They make their way into the kitchen, Louis barely two steps on Harry’s heels. Harry flips the light on and turns around, leaning against the counter._

_“Do you want some tea?” Harry asks, and Louis looks at him as though he’s grown another head or something. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”_

_“Harry, have you never had a one night stand before?”_

_Harry nearly chokes. “What?”_

_“I called you for sex.”_

_“Yeah, I—I got that. I just…” He looks away for a moment, trying to work his tired brain around things. “I’m just not sure why?”_

_Louis smiles a little, stepping into Harry’s space and slipping his hands underneath his shirt, resting them on Harry’s hips. Harry’s breath catches at the touch, but he holds firm, because Louis is fucking married._

_“Because I find you incredibly hot,” Louis murmurs, tilting in and leaning in so their mouths are barely a breath apart. “And I didn’t get to return the favor in the bathroom.”_

_“Because you showed me a wedding ring, Louis.”_

_At that, Louis’s smile falters. “Yeah, I know.” He sighs, removing his hands and stepping back a little. “Maybe it was presumptuous to assume you’d be okay with this. I’m sorry. I just… I’m going through something, I think. I’ve never… I’ve never let myself entertain the way I feel about boys.”_

_“Doing it at 3am while your wife is asleep somewhere else is not the best idea, mate, I hate to break it to you.”_

_“No, yeah, I know. Thanks for pointing that out,” Louis snaps, like he has any right to be angry about anything going on. “Eleanor is… She’s great. I don’t know why I can’t make myself feel the way I should about her.” He looks up, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t use you as a weird pawn in my sexuality crisis. I’m sorry I woke you up.”_

_Harry shrugs, “It’s okay. I kind of expected the night to go this way.”_

_“You really didn’t know this was a booty call?”_

_“Of course I did,” Harry snorts. “I just also know that you’re straight and, you know, married.”_

_Louis laughs, but it’s hollow. “Straight. Yeah. That I am.” But he looks so confused, and so sad, and so small. Harry can’t help but step forward and wrap Louis in a hug—he knows that Louis needs it from someone, and this definitely isn’t something that he can go to his wife about, so. Harry doesn’t mind being this for him._

_Thankfully, Louis hugs back. They just stand there like that for a while, until Louis’s breathing is normal and Harry is about to fall asleep again._

_“For the record,” Harry murmurs, “I don’t think you’re a bad person. Questioning your sexuality is scary, and it’s normal to get confused about a lot of things. Morality included.”_

_“Yeah.” Louis looks up at him again, and they’re so close that Harry can see his eyes. Blue. “Thank you, Harry. For being so kind.”_

_“You’re welcome,” Harry whispers, and Louis doesn’t look away. They don’t step away either._

_Louis has really nice eyelashes._

_But Harry doesn’t get to mull on that very long, because then Louis is kissing him, and Harry is kissing back, and then they’re making their way to Harry’s bedroom._

***

Harry moves to the edge of the bed so he’s closer to Louis, and Louis stops his pacing. They’re both shaking with anger, but with something else too, and Harry can see the pain in Louis’s eyes.

“I love you,” Harry says firmly, and Louis looks away. It makes Harry’s heart break. “No. Fucking look at me, Lou. Look at me.” He grabs Louis’s chin, forces him to look Harry in the eyes. “I’m in love with you, and I know that you love me, too. I know that you love me more than you could ever love her, and it’s not fair to any of us to keep doing this. Why can’t you fucking get that?”

The first few tears slip down Louis’s cheeks, and Harry tries not to sob as Louis steps away and leans against the dresser, chin on his chest. “What am I supposed to tell her, Haz? That I’ve been fucking a man for months, and I’m in love with him, and it turns out I’ve been gay for the three fucking years we’ve been married? The five years we’ve been together? And all along, I’ve never loved her?”

“If she truly loves you, she’ll understand,” Harry says desperately. Part of him feels like he’s lying, because he can’t possibly know if Eleanor will understand, but god, he hopes he’s right. “It’s not your fault, Lou. These are the cards you were dealt and you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy. Someone you can love in the same way that they love you. Even if… Even if you don’t want to be with me, you can’t stay with her when you don’t love her. It isn’t fair and you fucking know it.”

“H, if it wasn’t for you, I would never even consider ending my marriage.” He looks up again, his eyes desperate and pleading. “Isn’t that enough?”

“What?”

Louis steps forward to the edge of the bed, taking Harry’s hands in his own, holding them like a lifeline. He’s searching Harry’s eyes like he might find the answer of _what the hell do I do?_ hidden in there. “Isn’t it enough that I’m considering it? I’m trying my best for you, baby. One day, it won’t be like this, I promise. One day, it’ll just be you and me. I swear. I just can’t do it today.” He threads their fingers together, and more tears are falling, and every breath sounds like he’s choking.

Harry wants nothing more than to pull him into bed and hold him until he stops crying. He wants to pet his hair and tell him that everything is okay, and will be okay. But Harry himself doesn’t even believe that, not right now. He doesn’t know how he could ever convince Louis of something that he’s lost all hope on.

But he holds Louis’s hands, and he rests their foreheads together. As much as Louis needs it, Harry kind of needs it, too. More than kind of. He’s getting his heart ripped out and stomped on, all because he made the stupid fucking mistake of falling in love with a man who’s used up all of his promises on someone else, and has none left for him.

“I’m not above begging,” Harry whispers finally, and Louis audibly sobs. “I’ll get down on the floor on my knees if I have to. I’ll do anything you want me to do, just _please.”_

“You can’t ask me to do this. I’m doing all I can.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry counters, squeezing Louis’s hands harder and dropping his head down onto Louis’s shoulder. “I love you. And every time you walk out that door, you break my fucking heart.”

“Harry, please don’t tell me this. Don’t tell me this, I can’t—I can’t live knowing how I hurt you.”

Harry’s voice wobbles as he continues, “Waiting for you to come back makes me feel like I’m fucking dying. Knowing you’re with her, knowing she can hold your hand in public and go on dates with you. Knowing she has your ring on her finger. Knowing you love me but you’re with her. It nearly fucking kills me, sometimes. It’s so much. It’s _too_ much.”

Louis is shaking now, and Harry can’t stand it. He unfolds their fingers and wraps his arms tightly around Louis’s middle, holding him as he cries.

“It’s gonna be okay, Lou,” Harry whispers, rubbing his back in small circles, and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

***

_“Let me do it,” Louis whispers, batting Harry’s hands away and taking the condom between his own fingers. He’s put a condom on himself before and clearly knows what he’s doing, but his hands still shake as he rolls it down Harry’s dick._

_Harry, despite the pleasure he feels just from Louis’s hand, grips his wrist. “You don’t have to do this if you’re scared, baby. It’s okay.”_

_“No, I want to.”_

_“You’re shaking.”_

_“Haz, I want to,” Louis repeats, and Harry nods, releasing his grip on Louis’s wrist. Louis pushes Harry to lay down and then he rests a knee on either side of Harry’s hips, eyes never leaving Harry’s cock. “You’re fucking huge. If I die, I love you.”_

_Harry laughs, but it’s quickly cut off by Louis lining Harry’s dick up and sinking down. He swears loudly and grips Louis’s hips, trying his hardest not to buck up so he doesn’t hurt Louis. Once he’s fully seated, Harry’s seeing stars._

_“This better be good, Styles,” Louis whispers, breathless, starting to move his hips in little figure eight motions. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”_

***

When Louis’s phone rings, Harry just hugs Louis harder, silently begging him to just fucking _stay._ All he has to do is stay, that’s all he needs to do.

“You have to let me go, love,” Louis whispers, and Harry feels his resolve slowly starting to crumble. He can’t fucking _do this._ “Come on, H. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Don’t go,” Harry begs, and his voice cracks. “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.”

Louis’s voice is all kinds of fucked when he steps back and says, “I have to.” He pulls on Harry’s hands until he manages to free himself, and Harry is left to fall apart on the bedsheets while Louis scrambles to answer his phone before it goes to voicemail.

Harry lets out his first sob after Louis answers, and he hears Eleanor’s voice on the other line, asking Louis where he is. He sees the pain in Louis’s eyes at the sound, but he doesn’t say or do anything to comfort Harry. Instead, he says, “I’ve been stuck late at work again, babe. There’s nothing I could do.” Harry knows the last sentence is for him, too, and he just sobs again.

Eleanor speaks for a long time, probably giving Louis the play-by-play of some work drama, and Louis takes the time to cover the microphone and turn his full attention to Harry again.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Harry wants to slap him more than anything. “Yeah,” he says to Eleanor suddenly, “yeah, I’m here. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’m leaving in a minute, alright? I’ll be home soon.”

Harry wraps his arms around himself and sits back, scooting back against the headboard and far away from Louis, so Louis can’t reach for him again.

But he’s not far enough away to drown out Eleanor’s voice, because he can hear her when she says, “Okay. I love you.”

And he can hear Louis loud and clear when he says, “I love you, too.”

_Liar!_ Harry’s mind screams, as he holds himself tighter and buried his face into his knees. _Liar, liar, liar!_

***

_“You know I can’t stay, baby,” Louis murmurs, drawing small shapes onto Harry’s bare back. “I have to go home eventually. El will start to worry.”_

_Harry’s nose wrinkles. “Don’t talk about her while you’re in bed with me. That’s rude.”_

_“Sorry, baby,” Louis whispers, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple in apology._

_They sit in silence for a few moments, and Harry tucks his nose into Louis’s neck, breathing in deep and closing his eyes. He imagines that they can stay like this forever, and that Louis never has to leave, and that he loves Harry and only Harry._

_Sometimes, he forgets that’s just a dream._

_Times like now, when Louis kisses his hair and tells him, “I love you, you know?”_

_Times like that, it’s easy to forget._

***

“Get out!” Harry yells when Louis hangs up, and even though Louis has been arguing that he has to leave this entire time, he suddenly wants to do no such thing. “Get the _fuck_ out, Louis, I swear to God.”

“Harry, please—”

“Don’t! Don’t fucking beg me, I’m fucking tired of it. I’ve done enough begging for the both of us, so I don’t want to hear it. Just leave. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

Louis steps closer, and Harry throws a pillow at him. Louis, of course, dodges it—so Harry throws every single pillow, decorative and otherwise, at him until he’s out of pillows and out of resolve to fight.

He just cries, curled up against the headboard and praying that Louis won’t go, no matter how many times Harry tells him to.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t reach for Harry again, simply puts his hand next to Harry’s leg, lets his thumb press against Harry’s ankle. “It won’t always be like this, I promise, I just need—”

“Time,” Harry fills in. “I fucking know. I don’t care, I don’t want _time._ I want you to fucking leave and never come back.”

Louis at least has the decency to look surprised, even though Harry thinks he shouldn’t be. He has to be acting. There’s no way he’s genuinely surprised that, after months of loving Louis with everything he has only to receive nothing but empty promises in return, Harry has reached his breaking point.

Louis whispers, “Baby, you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Harry means, though he definitely doesn’t mean it. “I do. I never want to see you again. You’ve done nothing but waste my time for _months._ You kiss me, hold me, fuck me, tell me you love me, and all of it means jack shit, because you still go home to her. I’ve begged and I’ve cried and it hasn’t done shit, and I’m done. I’m done trying to be enough for you.”

“Baby,” Louis says, but he doesn’t say anything else.

For once, Louis Tomlinson is speechless.

“Just go. That’s what the fuck you do best.”

And God, Harry should expect it when Louis stands up and heads for the door, but it hits him like a punch in the stomach anyway. He watches Louis pocket his phone and wallet, watches him grab his keys and then pull the door open. He watches Louis stop in the open doorway and turn to look at Harry for a long second like he wants to say something.

_Say it,_ Harry begs. _Tell me you love me, tell me that you’re going to stay._

Louis says nothing. He turns back around and leaves, and Harry doesn’t tears fall until he hears the front door close, and he doesn’t let himself cry properly until he hears Louis’s car pull out of the driveway.

It’s okay, though. In a twisted way. Because he knows Louis will be back. He knows Louis will call again, asking to come over. And he knows that he’ll let Louis in with open arms and an empty bed, and he knows that there will be nothing but more empty promises—but he also knows that any way he can have Louis, he’ll take it.

***

_“I’m gay,” Louis says, and it’s the first time he’s ever said it before, Harry can tell. “I’m gay. I like men, and that’s okay.” He looks up, looks Harry in the eye, and smiles. “I’m in love with Harry, and that’s okay.”_

_Harry smiles back, “It’s okay. It’s all okay, just like I said.”_

_Louis crawls across the bed, places himself into Harry’s arms and hums when Harry starts scratching his scalp. “Of course everything is going to be okay. Because we’re gonna get married and grow old together and have lots of children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_“Mhm,” Louis nods, kissing Harry’s wrist where he can reach. “I promise.”_

_“A promise is a serious thing, you know.”_

_“I know,” Louis whispers. “I would never make you a promise that I can’t keep.”_

_Harry’s smile falters only for a second, and he’s happy that Louis isn’t actually looking at him, because he’s suddenly on the verge of tears. “I know,” he whispers, and hopes his voice doesn’t wobble._

_He doesn’t believe Louis, but as he watches Louis fall asleep in his lap, he figures that’s a problem for another day._

**Author's Note:**

> all mistakes are mine! also pls leave kudos/comments if you liked it!!! thx <3


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